


Between death and eternity

by silberstreif



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Complex relationships, Gen, Mystery, lots of posing, not finished, old fic, saved from Livejournal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silberstreif/pseuds/silberstreif
Summary: Sometimes, a war is decided by chance encounters and extraordinary persons. Optimus Prime's new consultants definitely fall into the latter category, but their harmless surface hides dark and terrible secrets...(Only Part 1: Iacon has been finished).





	1. Iacon: Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> A very old fic from me. Maybe 2011? Anyway, I had several parts planned, named after different city states, but finished only Iacon. Unlikely that I pick it up again in the future.
> 
> Universe: G1  
> Beta: Starfire 201  
> Continuation: Pre-war  
> Genre: Adventure, drama  
> Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Optimus Prime

**Between death and eternity**

  
  
_Part 1: Iacon_

 _Chapter 1: Meeting_  
  
  
For many of the following millenia Optimus Prime wouldn't know what he had triggered. His spark would suspect it, that here in this very moment the foundation stone of the Autobots was laid, but the reason why would evade him. Had he thought about it, he would have named such examples as their knowledge, the perfect team work, their professionality and their loyalty... and all those were true. Only the main reason lay much deeper and darker.

On this orn Primus, or rather Unicron, gifted the Autobots with the weapons they would need to survive the approaching war. And maybe to win.

 

~O~

  
In his office, high up in one of the radiant towers of Iacon, Optimus Prime sat reading the newest reports about the events on the other side of the planet in Kaon. It wasn't pleasant reading.

This new group, they called themselves the Decepticons, had conquered the city-state and were now expanding their influence into the remaining sectors of Cybertron. In other cities, they held strong lobbies within politcs and enjoyed popularity with the poorer layers of population.

The Decepticon troops themselves were aggressive and completely ruthless. The Autobots that should be able to keep peace and order were often confronted with spies or traitors. Much more frequent were muggings in dark alleys or downright death squads to the extent that no one dared to speak out against the Decepticons. It was getting difficult to convince the average Cybertronian to even report encroachments. A climate of fear and turmoil ruled their planet.

It was an open secret that the Decepticons would target another city state after Kaon. Cybertron had only fourteen city states, and to lose even one would be an enormous loss.

Optimus sighed. He lost people with the same speed as the Decepticons acquired power. If he didn't stop them, it was only a question of time until they had enough influence to openly declare war against the Council and Prime. The few spies they had managed to plant among the Decepticons that hadn't been daunted by the possibility of death all told the same story:

The leader of the Decepticons was called Megatron and he wanted power, power over Cybertron.

Even if most mechs on the street hadn't realized it yet, war was on the front step.

Optimus' spark was hurt by this thought. Had he really failed in his office as Prime this much, that it would come to civil war?

But he knew what he had to do. If the Decepticons couldn't be placated, if they were further gaining power, if Megatron stayed true to his proclaimed goals, then he had to turn the Autobots from a police force into an army. Only this way would they have a small chance.

And today he would begin with that task.

"Optimus Prime?" asked the friendly voice of his secretary out of the loudspeaker. "Prowl has just arrived."

"Good. Send him up, thank you."

A few kliks later, a white and black mech entered the office. Straight and without any noticeable emotion, he stopped in perfect polite distance in front of the desk. The small doorwings on his back twitched minimally.

"You wanted to see me, Prime?"

Optimus smiled. Prowl had acceded to the Autobots seventy cycles ago and had had a hard time fitting in. At the training camp he delivered a brilliant performance, but both the instructors and his fellow students were soon frustrated. The instructors because he began to suggest improvements, and his comrades about his seeming arrogance as he never showed feelings and always seemed to know better than they.

Despite those problems a highly specialised department, which was a part of the personal staff of Prime, had taken notice. The Tactical Department of the Autobots had heard of his outstanding intelligence and invited him for some tests, which the bot passed with flying colours.

But the Tactical Department was small and considered as unimportant by most Autobots. In peace time they devoted themselves to hardly more than the calculations in which sector how many Autobots had to be on sentry duty to reach optimal security at minimal cost. In war times though...

Twenty cycles ago, as Optimus had to acknowledge to himself for the first time that a civil war was possible, he first of all began to expand this department and to give them more money. He needed trustworthy data and advice about how the Decepticons would proceed, how he could prepare the Autobots the best, and what to expect.

Barely had Optimus told all of this to Splitter, the head of the department, he made an unusual suggestion.

"Prime, sir, I understand your problem," he had said. "But we lack time."

"Time?" Optimus looked at his trusted tactician in shock. "Surely we still have a few cycles...?!"

To his relief, Splitter nodded. "Yes. But I'm talking about the training of tacticians. We are very few, because few are suitable for this work. While I'm glad about the better financial situation of my department, I have to admit that I can't use the money for the proposed projects, because I simply don't have the available talent."

Even though Optimus liked Splitter, every conversation with him was a chore, because he often said one thing and meant five different ones. So he calmly looked at his expectant subordinate and thought about every sentence spoken.

"But you have... different ideas?"

"Yes." Splitter put a heavy folder onto the desk. "This is Prowl. The Autobot with the potential to be one of the best tacticians that Cybertron has ever seen."

"Only the potential?" he asked, while taking the folder into his servo. He gave the data an overview.

"Prowl's problem is that he wasn't built for mentally challenging jobs. As a consequence, his CPU is regularly overburdened with his own thought processes, which ends in a crash. That's why we couldn't ever use his whole capacities very far. But even with his low CPU-performance he's keeping up with every other tactician!" Splitter was uncharacteristically excited. "I suggest that we use the money for quality instead of quantity."

"You want to improve his CPU performance?"

Splitter answered with a shake of his head. "To extract the CPU of a mech is a perversion, because all memories and personality are erased... but I thought about installing a second CPU that only works on tactical information."

A daring recommendation. Every surgery on a CPU of a mech had a certain risk. "Is Prowl agreeing to this?"

"Yes."

"And he's trustworthy?" The last thing they needed was a traitor with such formidable tactical skills... he shuddered at what the Decepticons could do with them.

"Absolutely."

Optimus scrutinized him and searched for the smallest doubt. "And you, Splitter, think that this is the best way?"

"Considering the time problem, yes." Splitter answered his look calmly. "Additionally, I'm convinced that this is the best decision for Prowl, too."

Prime slid the folder back across the desk towards the tactician. "Then do what has to be done."

Since eight cycles ago, the stoic tactician worked directly beneath Prime and had proven to be invaluable.

At the beginning, Optimus had been a bit deterred by his coldness, but he learned fast that this was only a façade. Prowl was completely logical and considered every problem this way too, which was the reason why he rarely lost his composure in daily life. Though when he felt, his emotions were deep and honest. By now he relied completely on Prowl.

"Please sit down." He pointed towards the seating area and took a seat in the comfortable armchair. "How was the recruiting in Praxus?"

"Good." Prowl sat down across from Prime on the couch. "In five cycles we'll have an adequate armed force in Praxus. However, I have obtained alarming messages from Vos."

"Vos? Those reports haven't been advanced to me."

Prowl nodded sharply. "It seems as if the Decepticons are concentrating on Vos as we expected them to. Because nearly 90 percent of all fliers live there, the fall of Vos would mean the loss of our supremacy in the air."

Optimus sighed. "And how successful have they been with their plan?"

In the same neutral intonation as he had spoken prior, Prowl answered. "Very successful. I fear that the fall of Vos is only a question of time."

He feared. When Prowl used that term, you could take his fears most of the time as facts. For a moment the silence stretched in the office, then Optimus abruptly stood up. Angry and in deep worry about the future, he started to pace back and forth.

"Why didn't we notice this?!" he shouted eventually. It was one thing to expect it, another to receive the news when it was already too late.

"Our Intelligence Department is under construction," came the calm explanation.

"I know! Still... and why? What are the Decepticons promising them?"

"Not much. The right to fly everywhere when they want it which is prohibited by the constitution Segment Four, Article Sixty-three. Revenge for invectives, which many fliers suffer under when they leave their city. And, of course, energon."

"It's always energon, isn't it?"

Energon was always the deciding factor. The rising energon prices, the mines that were nearly completely exploited, all this was no secret. Many of the poorer Cybertronians had a serious problem and acceded only too willingly to Megatron, who took the energon with violence, as long as he provided a cube an orn for them.

Vos, as a relatively isolated city with a completely different group of population as the rest of the planet, had been affected worse by the energon shortage than every other city. With exception to Kaon maybe, the poorhouse of the planet.

"We can't offer the other fliers something better, or?"

Prowl thought about the question for a moment and shook his head. "Individuals, maybe. Every one of them? No."

"Then we have lost Vos." As the second city and with it their air sovereignty.

"Yes."

He turned and sat down in his armchair again. "Other bad news?" His tactician answered in the negative and Optimus was, even if he wouldn't admit it, relieved. "I, on the other hand, have some positive news, Prowl. The Intelligence Department has a new head. He should arrive any klik now."

"Designation?"

"Jazz."

At that moment, his secretary called. "Prime, sir? Your visitor Jazz has arrived. I'm sending him up."

"Thank you."

Prowl watched him dispassionately. "This Jazz... is he competent?"

Optimus had to smile. "Yes. He's excellent. I'm glad that he's on our side."

The office door slid aside and again a black and white mech entered. He was smaller and more delicately built than Prowl and moved with a certain fluent grace, achieved through perfect body control. Searching, he looked around the room and saw those two.

"Hey." Grinning, he walked towards them. "I needed something from my office. My name is Jazz and yours?" Invitingly, he stretched out his hand towards Prowl, who only watched.

Silently a few kliks went past, then finally, the tactician took his hand. "Prowl, head of the Tactical Department. Consultant of Optimus Prime."

"Pleased to meet ya." Without waiting for an invitation, he took the only empty armchair left.

Prime nearly smiled. Jazz was young, extremely extroverted, and ignored with a nonchalance the rules of society; something which Optimus could find both annoying and admirable.

"Jazz, good that you're here. Did you already hear about Vos?"

Jazz' face lost his grin and became serious. "Yes. After all, I got the data."

Optimus had nearly expected this. Jazz was simply that good. "And what do you think about it?"

The young bot shrugged. "It's a bad situation, Prime. Don't think that we can do much there. Vos is too isolated, has too many good reasons for a revolution..."

Satisfied, he nodded. "Yes, Prowl assessed the situation similarly."

The two subordinates exchanged a glance. Prowl's was calm and calculating, Jazz' a barely hidden challenge. They spoke no words. Optimus, who was watching, was starting to doubt that those two bots with extremely different characters could really work together well and consequently fulfill the roles he had given them. ... No reason to delay further. Should they not be able to, he would have to deal with it personally so that their teamwork functioned. In an army, there was no place for personal arguments among the chain of command and much less among the mechs he both wanted as his consultants.

"I want you both together to find a way to prevent the rebellion of Vos or at least to delay it. Further, I want an evaluation of every single of our citys how good they can defend themselves against an air strike, understood?"

Both looked at him for a few kliks, then towards their future partner. Both were silent. Eventually Jazz sighed: "With him?"

"Yes. Why, is there a problem?" Again, both remained silent. He scrutinized them. Did they know each other? Surely, their repulsion couldn't be this pronounced after just a few moments in his office?

"If there aren't any substantial reasons against it, you work together. Take it as a test. Any questions?"

"No, Prime," answered Jazz. Prowl agreed.

"Wonderful. I expect the results in two orns at the latest. Time is of the essence." Again, both remained silent and just looked at each other. "You can go."

Without a sound, they stood up and bowed lightly towards their Prime. In front of the office door both hesitated, as if they couldn't decide who should go first. Finally, it was Jazz, with Prowl hard on his heels.

Contemplatively, Optimus watched them go. He had chosen the very best, for their skills, their potential and their loyalty. Still, now he felt uneasy. This silence had been more than atypical for both of them. Was it only a spontaneous aversion or more? Or did he read too much into this meeting...

As he went back towards his desk, he prayed to Primus that his worry was unfounded.

 

~O~

 

Without a word, the two mechs walked next to each other down the corridor to the lift and entered it. It was Jazz who choose the next floor, which was only used for his departement.

"When will we meet?" Prowl broke the icy silence.

"In two joors I'm finished, so afterwards. Where?"

"Floor three, first hallway right, second room. A small unused seminar room."

"Understood."

The lift stopped. Without another word, but careful that Prowl always remained in his sight, he stepped out. Behind him, the hydraulic doors closed. It was standard during negotiations that both sides expected betrayal, that one side decided the place, the other side the time. The simple fact that they both kept to this policy showed that they didn't only dislike each other, but they had no trust at all in the other one. Trust which they normally gave every Autobot.

Jazz only managed to relax as the lift had disappeared. He formed a fist, then pressed air out of his ventilators as he sighed.

"And everything was going so good," he muttered .

Good, until the moment he gave Prowl his servo. In those few seconds, the tactician had evaluated and judged him. Primus, Jazz had known that Prowl was good. Propably the best who ever walked on Cybertron. But this good?

He had seen it in the changed sitting posture, the small shift of the frame weight: Prowl had been ready to attack him every single nanosecond. And with cold certainty Jazz had known: the tactician had seen what none of the many Autobots before him hadn't.

Jazz wasn't just a very successful spy, but a highly trained killer.

And that with one look!

Worried, he entered his own office, which was nearly empty of any furniture and went to the window. Everything here was still new and shiny metal.

What had betrayed him, Jazz, the master spy? Betrayed that he was more than just a fellow Autobot?

Because this was it, right? That he had the skills and the mental disposition to kill other mechs within seconds without remorse. And that he had done it, often. Something that was unbelievable within the Autobot moral code.

But in the end it didn't matter what had gotten him busted. What was important was that Prowl had seen it and now mistrusted Jazz... though he hadn't said anything to Prime. Had the tactician given him a chance? No. Prowl simply hadn't any proof.

From now on, Jazz would have to be more careful.


	2. Iacon: Negotiating

_Part 1: Iacon_

  
_Chapter 2: Negotiating_   
  
  
When Jazz entered the seminar room two joors later, the tactician was already there and waiting. In front of him lay the maps of several cities and on the wall was a hologram of Cybertron with highlighted flight routes.

Prowl looked up, when he heard the door. "Jazz."

"Prowl." Jazz was determined not to show any insecurity. "You have already worked on it?"

"Yes. I calculated how long you would need to fly from Vos to the other cities under various conditions."

Jazz put his own data pads on the table. "Do they need long enough that we can react?"

"If we watch Vos from the orbit, the answer is yes in every case."

Jazz grinned, even though he saw no true humour at this situation. "The Vosnians wont be happy about this."

Vosnians thought a planetwide orbit observation traditionally as a limitation of their freedom. In these orns, such a step could be the spark that led to an inferno.

"If they join with the Decepticions, they are a danger and we have to act accordingly," said the tactician, not inclined to accept the argument.

"But we still have the possibility to negotiate with them and at least to turn some of them to our cause. If we built such a huge surveillance system which is nothing more than a sign of mistrust, then we have no chance to convince them of our good intentions. They would claim this as an aggression against Vos."

Prowl didn't answer and just looked at him. The intelligence agent resisted the desire to show how nervous he was. Did he already make a mistake? But it had been his honest opinion... Politically, the surveillance of Vos was a radical step, and they both knew it.

"It's the only way to guarantee the safety of the other cities." In the voice of the tactician was a hardness that surprised Jazz. "This planet's safety is the highest commandment for us Autobots. Every other way holds untold risks."

Jazz had to give it to him, that he was subtle, even as he blamed Jazz for acting outside of the moral conduct of the Autobots.

"Orbital surveillance has its own risks. The Decepticons could use it as political dynamite in their propaganda and we could lose every single neutral Vosnian."

Did Prowl really not see this? Or was all this just a trap for Jazz?

"And what do you propose then?"

_Huh?_ He hadn't even half of all the relevant information yet! And Prowl knew that. Every opinion Jazz had would be wrong...

"If we improve the defence of the cities against ground and air attacks generally, how would the safety look then?"

Prowl nodded, Jazz had passed this test.

"In most cities this would be satisfactory, but in the cities near Vos we have too short of a reaction time. Additionally, this option would take more time than an orbital surveillance."

"Time we could use to slow down the takeover of Vos."

"How?"

"Negotiations?"

"The risk is too high."

Jazz stared at him surprised. That was it? Just like that the proposal was removed from the table? "Too risky, why?"

"We don't know if Vos is even interested in negotiations. And we have nothing significant to offer them, are hated by them and in the worst case scenario, the Decepticons will use the talks to either increase their influence or to win time before we can activate the orbital surveillance."

"But if we don't even try, we would send the worst signal imaginable to the public." Surely Prowl couldn't ignore that they would hand over a whole city-state without any fight!

"It's the decision of the Vosnians, not ours," Prowl replied.

After this, they couldn't find a compromise. Prowl insisted on the orbital surveillance because he thought that this was the only way without risking other cities. Jazz, however, couldn't help himself and thought this idea was slag. They would give up on Vos, be the aggressors thanks to the surveillance, and even strengthen the Decepticons in their conviction too!

Finally, Jazz couldn't take it any more. He jumped up and put both hands on the table in front of Prowl.

"I know your arguments, Prowl! But sometimes in life you have to take risks!"

The tactician gave him an acidic look. "Not if your risks are the lives of other Cybertronians."

Jazz flinched back as if slapped. "My risks?"

The spy's thoughts raced. Was Prowl so stubborn because he didn't trust Jazz' evaluation of the situation? Because he suspected a trap?

"Yes." Slowly Prowl stood up and stepped around the table, just to stop a few centimetres away from the spy. He was bigger than Jazz and built more powerful.

Within Jazz, every cable demanded to attack or to increase the distance. He kept standing there. Maybe... maybe it was time for honesty:

"You don't trust me." No reason to talk around this. "Why?"

Prowl was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Because your body speaks of battles."

So it was his body that had betrayed him. But what exactly?

"Every Autobot has been trained for battle."

"Yes," admitted the tactician and narrowed his optics. "They were trained, but you... you're living it."

"I... understand..." Jazz really understood. That what made him so good had betrayed him. His body, his experience, his own life. Though, just how had Prowl been able to recognize the signs?

"Jazz, as you said, I don't trust you. But because Prime wants it, I will work together with you. Should I find even one single hint of betrayal, I will turn you in."

So the rules in this games were clear. Jazz nodded, absurdly relieved that he now knew where he stood with the tactician. It wasn't a good situation by far, but at least he didn't have to fear any more that Autobots were waiting in front of his apartment, ready to put him in prison or worse.

"That's okay..." he answered. "Still, I think that you ignore too many other factors with your strategy of orbital surveillance."

Back to the everyday business. Even if their personal war was important, they couldn't ignore Vos. 

Prowl was silent for a few kliks, then he said tersely, "Compile your arguments and proposals on a datapad. I'll talk with Prime and find out what he thinks about the risks."

What? Was he being downgraded to the secretary of the tactician? They had the same rank!

But Jazz kept his iron self-control with the knowledge that Prowl would probably only consider his opinion through this way.

"Good plan."

"Tomorrow, same time."

And again the security protocol. "Same place."

With a short nod, Prowl left the room. A bit lost, Jazz stared at the scattered data pads.

"Well, this could have gone better."

~O~

As Prowl entered the office, Prime sat behind the desk and greeted him with a smile:

"I wouldn't have thought that you would finish this fast."

Prowl's doorwings dropped a bit, a sure sign that he wasn't happy that he would have to disappoint his superior. "We aren't finished yet. Our opinions are not compatible."

"Meaning?" asked Optimus worriedly. It seemed that his fears, that their different personalities were too extreme, were justified.

"We couldn't agree what our priorities should be. Jazz thinks we should take a few risks that could later prove valuable in this conflict, while I thought them unacceptable."

That explained why Prowl was here. They saw things so differently that they needed a guiding line. At least they were trying. "What kind of risks?"

"The protection of the cities and until which point this protection has priority over advantages later in the coming war."

Indeed, this was no small problem. "I take it that you want a completely safe method?"

"Yes."

"And Jazz?"

"He wants to take risks, so that we don't lose the support of the public."

Prowl's disapproval was clear to the Prime. It wasn't just a basic question, it was a moral conflict. Should he risk the lives of his citizens just to keep support and a favourable public opinion which he needed to win the war?

What should he do?

Optimus was intelligent. He knew that behind both decisions were many possibilities, plans, and more. Whatever he would say, maybe it would be even irrelevant in the current situation... but his consultants, Prowl and Jazz, would act accordingly to his will.

Could he really sacrifice lives that were entrusted to him for a theoretical tactical advantage in the far future? 

He didn't realise that his hands were shaking.

"Sir?"

He looked up. "Prowl... why are you against taking this risk?" The tactician hesitated. "I have to know, my friend."

The younger bot seemed to slump down. "I don't trust Jazz, Prime."

Many answers he had expected, this one was not among them. "Jazz?! But why?"

So far, he had thought Jazz the ideal Autobot. But Prowl obviously didn't share this opinion. 

"I don't think that he was the best choice for such a position."

"His performance has always been excellent..."

"Not because of his abilities."

Optimus stared at Prowl, nearly speechless. "You doubt his loyalty?"

"Yes."

"That's... Why?"

And for the first time since Optimus knew him, Prowl avoided his optics. "It's just a... suspicion."

"Suspicion," he echoed flat, unbelieving. His tactician didn't have baseless suspicions. "Are you sure that your mistrust isn't influenced by your personal sympathy towards him?" "Silence. "I take this as a 'no'. Prowl.... I want you both to at least work together. I trust both of you. And if you trust me, then trust Jazz, too."

For a moment the tactician didn't move, then he inclined his head. "As you wish, Prime."

"Good." Optimus felt the early twinges of a processorache."What would be your proposal if you trusted Jazz? What risk would you take?"

Prowl looked far away, as if he was seeing something else entirely, a sure sign that he was doing a few entirely new calculations. Eventually he said:

"Jazz' arguments are not entirely wrong. If we calculate within ten cycles, I advise taking no risks. In a war, though, which can easily last a vorn or more, I would take risks to a moderate extent and give the Department of Communication precise instructions. 

"I understand." Deep down Optimus felt as if someone had hit him. Revulsion against himself bubbled up. Would he, the protector of Cybertron, really fall so deep as to put lives deliberately in danger? He wasn't aware that his face betrayed his thoughts.

Prowl's wings twitched and he took a step forward. "Prime.... sometimes one has to do things, that are not the best."

"Yes..." His voice sounded constrained. "Still..."

It was rare that Prowl let his professionalism fall away and became a bit more... emotional. Though nowhe couldn't really appreciate it. Too much he felt as if the words he had to speak would destroy a part of himself.

Prowl understood his dilemma. "I know. Just say... Must we Autobots do what is the best for all Cybertronians in the long term?"

A simple answer. "Yes."

"Understood, Prime. In an orn the report will be completed. I wish you a good orn."

Optimus could only look amazed after the tactician left. Prowl had saved him from saying it. Of course, it would change none of the facts, but it was a big difference between giving an order which denied everything you stand for or to follow your own morals. This difference would only mean something to Optimus, but maybe this was the reason he felt a wave of gratitude for the tactician.

Prowl had made sure that tomorrow he could still look at himself in the mirror.

Now, he only had to trust in Jazz and Prowl, that they would find the way that was the best for all.

~O~

To say that Jazz was startled as Prowl entered his office without any warning (what happened to his door ping and lock?), would be an understatement. Reflexively, he pushed his chair backwards to put distance between his visitor and himself and grasped the laser pistol he always had with him. Only as his fingers slid themselves around the handle, he came back and froze.

With a blank expression, Prowl still stood in the door, then let it slowly slide close. They were cut off from the outside world.

Jazz cursed in his thoughts. No mistakes! If this hadn't been a mistake, he could call himself Unicron! He nearly had shot down the right hand of Prime. Good work, Jazz. Really. Before this, he hadn't realised how much the tactician had unsettled him, but now that his old instincts came back...

"If I had any doubts that you're more than an Autobot, they have now disappeared." Prowl sounded cold.

"Will you bring me before Prime?" And announce me a traitor? Kick me out of the Autobots?

"No."

"No?" Surprised, Jazz looked at him. Hadn't that been his goal?

"No... under one condition."

Condition sounded bad. But still better than his other possibilities. He already saw himself as a branded traitor being chased out of Iacon. "What do you want?"

"That you wear this from now on." In a single fluent movement, Prowl threw a small round microchip towards Jazz, who caught it with ease. "I wanted to put it on you without your knowledge originally, but this way is better."

Jazz examined the chip in his servo. It was the newest technology of the Department of Science, nearly untraceable if you didn't know where to search. On a secret frequency the chip sent the location and frame workload non-stop. Through this, one could determine where the Autobots where and more importantly, if they were fighting. Jazz gave the chip some of his agents, so that he would be able to help in an emergency.

There were probably worse punishments for nearly shooting the tactician.

"I won't be able to wear it on certain sensible missions in Kaon and Vos," offered Jazz with some concern and put the microchip beneath his armour.

"Acceptable. By then I will have gained clarity about you."

Jazz nearly made a face. Was that good or bad? But Prowl was already talking again, as if the whole incident had never happened:

"I have considered your information and spoken with Prime. In my opinion the orbital surveillance is necessary, but your arguments shouldn't be overlooked." He gave Jazz a data unit. "These are my proposals and calculations. Please read through them by the next meeting, so that we can come to a decision fast."

The spy took the data unit and viewed it. Prowl had really deviated from his radical standpoint and took up a few of Jazz' arguments. None of it was perfect, but now a compromise was at least possible. 

"Has Optimus Prime said something important?" Jazz asked 

"Yes." Prowl got, if possible, even more serious. "Prime's command: do what is the best for all Cybertronians in the long term."

Jazz was silent as he processed the order, then he said quietly: "Even if there are avoidable victims?"

"Yes. The best in the long term."

He saved the command of his Prime in his deepest and safest memory file. "Order accepted. For Cybertron."

Prowl nodded and for the first time, Jazz saw behind the cold façade some of the warmth of the true mech. "For Cybertron."

The tactician left the office.

~O~


End file.
